


Fallen Forgotten

by Casual_Scribbles



Series: The Angels Forgot (Until They Didn't) [1]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst, Aziraphale and Crowley knew each other before, Crowley Was Raphael Before He Fell (Good Omens), Crowley has nightmares, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, The angels forgot, They/Them Pronouns for Beelzebub (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-05
Updated: 2019-08-05
Packaged: 2020-08-09 21:17:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20123986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Casual_Scribbles/pseuds/Casual_Scribbles
Summary: He’d gone too far. It had started simply enough. Little questions like, “Why is this here but not there,” and “Why do these do what they do,” but those weren’t enough. He never did know when to leave well enough alone. He started asking bigger questions. “What is the point of having these?” “Why couldn’t they just do that?”Then God put the Tree in the Garden with a big bright Don’t Touch sign slapped right on top of it. Raphael asked why the humans couldn’t eat its fruit.“It’s not the humans’ place to know God’s Plans.”He wasn’t satisfied. “Why can’t we know?”Raphael and Aziraphale were very close in Heaven. Then Raphael fell.





	Fallen Forgotten

Raphael stepped through the Garden, careful to avoid crushing any flowers. They were all growing so beautifully, he thought. She had done a very good job of creating them. He reached down and let his hand brush a particularly delicate flower. Its petals were soft and cool against his skin. He whispered encouragement to it and the other plants. They seemed to become more vibrant. He smiled.

Eden was nearly ready for the humans. He was simply going through to check that everything was as it should be – which it was. He hummed a song which had not yet come into existence as he walked, inspecting every plant. None of them seemed harmful so far. Of course not, no, She would never create something like that for Her newest creatures.

“Oh, well aren’t you just _lovely_!” A bubbly voice caught his ear. He turned. He thought he’d been alone in the Garden. “And your feathers – quite brilliant, I must say. You absolutely _have_ to show me how you keep them so neat!”

Raphael approached the voice and discovered another angel – albeit of a lower rank than him – sitting by a quiet stream. He was surrounded by the Garden’s animals and a duck – Raphael thought it was a mallard, although he’s not quite sure anymore – was settled in his lap. It was showing off its wings for the angel to admire. The angel was doing so with the brightest smile Raphael thinks he’s ever seen. More beautiful than Heaven, if he dared to think it.

“Hello,” Raphael said, stepping closer to the angel. He noticed that the angel’s short, blonde hair curled around his head like a halo. He stifled a laugh. It is something The Almighty would do.

The angel startled and looked up at Raphael. When he took in exactly who was standing in front of him he seemed to become more nervous. He cast several looks around him and at the duck in his lap. “Archangel Raphael! I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you there, so very sorry. I- uh,”

Raphael laughed and waved away the angel’s nervous babbling. “Don’t worry, angel. You don’t have to get up. It’s just me,” He flung himself down into the grass and reeds beside the angel. “To be quite honest, I rather dislike the whole _titles and proper honors_ and the like. Quite tedious, you know? And it sets me apart from the rest of you.”

The angel shifted and stiffened, seemingly unsure of whether he should lean towards Raphael or away, or if he should stay exactly as he was. “Ah, well, yes, of course. Whatever you say, Archangel Raph- I mean- uh,”

“Just call me Raphael,” he said, holding out his hand. “Forgive me for not already knowing, but would you be so kind as to share your name?”

The angel looked at the hand extended toward him. “Aziraphale,” he said slowly, tentatively reaching out to take Raphael’s hand.

“Don’t worry, I don’t bite,”

Aziraphale released a heavy sigh and took his hand, shook it once, and let go. Raphael noticed that Aziraphale’s free hand had continued stroking the duck in his lap, who was now ruffling its feathers in annoyance.

“I think that duck would very much like to be let go,” he said nonchalantly, stretching all six of his wings out behind him. He felt it was unfair that he had so many extras to get dirty and cramped while normal angels just got the one pair.

Aziraphale seemed to shake back to himself and looked down at the duck who quacked angrily at him. “Oh, yes, right. Very sorry, dear. Have a nice day!” The duck hopped out of his lap, shook out his feathers and wandered off. The other animals stayed but seemed less interested now.

“I take it you like animals?” Raphael asked.

Aziraphale swallowed and clasped his hands together in his lap. “Well, yes. I mean – they’re very nice and all,”

“You are allowed to have preferences, you know. She’s not going to smite you for liking one of Her creations more than the others,”

Aziraphale gaped at him and flushed. “Then, yes. I do rather like animals. They’re so nice and gentle, and most of them just love affection.”

Raphael smiled and leaned back on his hands as Aziraphale began to gush. His heart beat faster and his face felt warm. He wondered if She had planned this.

It wasn’t the last time they met. Raphael ran into Aziraphale again when he returned from building several solar systems. Alpha Centauri was one of his personal favorites.

“Oh!” Aziraphale seemed almost startled, his hands fluttering around his robes for lack of something to do. “Arch- Raph- Raphael! I almost didn’t see you there!”

“Hello again, Aziraphale!” Raphael smiled and sauntered over to him, pretending that his heart hadn’t skipped a beat at the sound of Aziraphale's voice. He gestured ahead of them and the two fell into step together. “How are things for you? Still enjoying the animals?”

Aziraphale seemed surprised. He probably didn’t think Raphael would remember him. Raphael snorted. As if he could ever forget him. Then Aziraphale beamed at him. “Oh, yes! I try to visit them in the Garden whenever I can.”

“That’s good. They seemed to like you too,”

Aziraphale walked beside him quietly for a while, his hands twisting the fabric of his tunic. Raphael glanced over at him and noticed him chewing his lip. He brushed his shoulder against Aziraphale’s. “Is there something you wish to say?”

Aziraphale looked up, his eyes wide, and Raphael noticed that they were a _brilliantly_ pretty shade of blue. “Oh, well, yes- I just- I'm not sure if I'm allowed-"

“You can ask me anything,” Raphael cut in with a smile. “I won’t be angry. I'll either answer or tell you that I can’t,”

“Oh! Oh, well, thank you, Raphael, that is very kind of you,” Aziraphale twisted his hands together and seemed to gather his courage. “What were you doing? Before, I mean. Before we ran into each other. A few minutes ago.”

Raphael brightened. “Oh, I am so glad you asked! Usually, only the other archangels ask about my work and it’s always just to scrutinize it! Come here, let me show you!” He grabbed Aziraphale’s wrist and dragged him to the Garden. He pointed up at the brilliant night sky, full of tiny shimmering lights. “Stars! I get to make the stars!”

“Oh!” Aziraphale’s little gasp filled him with pride. He had a very hard time tamping it down. Angels were not meant to be prideful. Aziraphale clutched his arm. “Oh, Raphael, they’re _beautiful_!”

Raphael was practically _vibrating_ with excitement. He waved his hand across the sky, sharpening the stars' images so that Aziraphale could see them better. “They’re all different sizes and colors and temperatures – a few of them even have planets! And some of them,” he smiled, excited about this particular addition to their designs, “Some of them even have a partner,”

“How do you mean?” Aziraphale asked. The question was so very similar to the ones that Gabriel and Uriel and Michael used to ask, but Aziraphale’s voice was full of wonder rather than confusion and scorn.

He pointed upwards. “Do you see that one?” Aziraphale nodded. “I call it Alpha Centauri. It looks like one star, right?” Aziraphale nodded again. Raphael waved his hand again and Alpha Centauri became much clearer than the other stars. “It’s actually two stars that orbit each other.”

Aziraphale gave a delighted gasp. Raphael felt his heart swell. For once, his work was appreciated. He never wanted to let Aziraphale go.

They were walking together again. It had become a fairly common occurrence. They were chattering about everything and nothing. Aziraphale kept trying to steer the conversation toward Raphael’s thoughts on Lucifer’s gatherings. Raphael redirected the conversation every time that happened. For some reason, he didn’t want Aziraphale knowing that he was in Lucifer’s gang. Thinking back, that should have been his first hint that what he was doing was wrong.

“Raphael!” Oh, no. He knew that voice. He slowly turned to see Gabriel. He was flanked by Uriel and Michael. All three looked appalled. “Raphael, what are you doing?”

“I'm walking with my friend.” He answered, keeping his voice as steady as possible.

The three archangels recoiled. Gabriel spluttered. “Your _friend_? Raphael, he’s a_ Principality_. You’re an _Archangel_. You’re above him. You can’t be his friend,”

“And why not?” Raphael spat, stepping in front of Aziraphale and flinging his wings out to protect him. There it was. A question. Not the first, certainly not the last, but ground shaking all the same. “Why do our ranks determine who we can and cannot be friends with?”

The archangels seemed dumbfounded. Questions like that could get an angel in trouble. Raphael couldn’t stop there. Or he wouldn’t. He’s still not sure which word best describes the feeling he'd had. He’d never been good at apologizing for mistakes. “As far as I know, She hasn’t told us that our ranks have to separate us. Did She tell you something that She didn’t tell me, because somehow I doubt that She would.”

There was a collective gasp. He’d never specifically said that he doubted Her, but he had assumed the way that She worked. That was almost as bad.

Raphael glared at Gabriel for a long moment, then spun on his heel – wings still flared to protect Aziraphale – and started marching away. “Come on, Aziraphale. Let’s go.”

They were in love. It hadn’t happened slowly. It happened through rapid-fire questions and unguarded answers. It happened through dancing together in the clouds. It happened through stargazing.

Raphael twined his fingers gently with Aziraphale’s and hummed as he used his free hand to stroke a leaf. The Garden was growing beautifully and soon it would be ready.

A nightingale swooped low and perched on Aziraphale’s outstretched hand. Raphael smiled fondly at the angel. How had he gotten so lucky? God must have Planned this. He could see no other reason for bumping into Aziraphale in the garden that day.

“How much longer do you think it’ll be?” Aziraphale asked. He still only asked safe questions. Raphael was torn between relief and disappointment. Relief that Aziraphale was in no danger of Falling. Disappointment that he was still trapped in Heaven's standard mindset.

“I don’t know. I hope it’s soon,” He smiled at the memory of Aziraphale excitedly showing off his flaming sword and proudly telling him that the Almighty had chosen him to guard the Garden. Raphael cupped a flower delicately. He regarded it and tilted his head. “Why do you think She made some plants produce fruit, but not others.”

“I don’t know, Raphael. It’s best not to question Her,” Aziraphale’s voice trembled when he was nervous and he always got nervous when Raphael started asking questions like these.

“I'm not questioning Her, Aziraphale, don’t worry.” He squeezed Aziraphale’s hand reassuringly. “I'm just wondering why. Why do some plants have medicinal properties? The humans aren’t meant to suffer.”

“I couldn’t say.”

A tiger prowled out of the bushes. It rubbed against Aziraphale and Raphael as it walked. Raphael held out a hand, calling it back. The tiger sat in front of him, completely calm except for the slow flick of its tail. Raphael pushed at its upper lip, revealing the long, sharp fangs hidden underneath. “Why does the tiger have fangs? It’s not as if it needs to hunt. Or defend itself.” He let the tiger go and it disappeared into the undergrowth.

Raphael looked over and saw that Aziraphale was shaking. He wouldn’t meet Raphael’s eyes. “I don’t know, Raphael. Could we talk about something else? Anything else?” He begged.

Raphael’s heart melted and he brought Aziraphale’s hand up to his lips. “Of course,” He looked up. “I made new stars the other day. There are planets around these ones.” He showed Aziraphale the bright landscapes, so similar to the Garden and yet so fundamentally different. “I'm thinking of adding planets to Alpha Centauri, but I don’t know if I should,”

“Oh, Raphael, they’re wonderful!” Aziraphale gushed. “How pretty! Wherever did you get the inspiration to make those?”

“Right here,” He said. He leaned over and kissed Aziraphale’s forehead. “With you,”

Aziraphale flushed and leaned his head against Raphael’s chest. He felt Aziraphale’s arms around his back and he reciprocated the hug. They stood together in the Garden for longer than Raphael can remember.

He’d gone too far. It had started simply enough. Little questions like, “_Why is this here but not there_,” and “_Why do these do what they do_,” but those weren’t enough. He never did know when to leave well enough alone. He started asking bigger questions. “_What is the point of having these?” _“_Why couldn’t they just do that?_”

Then God put the Tree in the Garden with a big bright _Don’t Touch_ sign slapped right on top of it. Raphael asked why the humans couldn’t eat its fruit.

“It’s not the humans’ place to know God’s Plans.”

He wasn’t satisfied. “Why can’t _we_ know?”

That was it. That was the last straw.

He was carried by the scruff of his neck to the highest point in Heaven. No one would answer him when he asked where they were going.

When they reached the top, Raphael saw a crowd of angels gathered as far from the edge of Heaven as the space would allow. Raphael moved to join them, but Gabriel’s hand on the back of his neck directed him past them. To the edge. With dawning horror, Raphael saw Lucifer and the rest of the gang standing with their heels flush against the edge. They could Fall at any moment.

He was pushed into line beside them. They all stood with their backs straight and expressions blank. The only thing that betrayed their fear was the quivering of their wings. Not Lucifer, though. He was perfectly still. He looked bored, even.

Gabriel paced in front of them. Michael stood beside the gathered angels, sword in hand.

“You have all been brought here for one reason: you have betrayed your Creator. You cannot be allowed to stay. You have all been sentenced to Fall.”

Raphael felt too hot and too cold all at once. It took all of his concentration to stay still and blank, but he couldn’t hide the shaking in his wings. He hadn’t even gotten to say goodbye to Aziraphale. Beside him, he heard Ramiel gasp, then try to hide it. He looked over at them. The scruffy little black-haired angel who had always seemed so happy was now trying to blink tears out of their eyes. He brushed one of his wingtips against theirs as reassurance, but he knew it was futile. One could not reassure an angel who was sentenced to Fall.

Gabriel waved his hand and Michael approached the first angel. Gabriel read the angel’s name and asked if he had anything to say for himself. The angel was silent. Gabriel nodded at Michael. She plunged her sword into the angel’s chest and kicked him back over the edge. Everyone could hear the screams.

Raphael clenched his hand into a fist and bit his tongue. He would not scream. He would not cry. He would not beg. He knew he couldn’t change their minds. He would go out with dignity.

The gathered angels began to murmur amongst themselves, horrified. He was sure he heard a few crying. Gabriel called for silence and all obeyed.

They moved down the line. None of the angels said a word before they Fell. All of them screamed when they did.

“Lucifer,” The name radiated power. “Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

Lucifer shrugged. “You wouldn’t listen if I tried to defend myself, so what’s the point? Kick me out. Enjoy your little brainwashed paradise,” A smirk tugged at the archangel's lips. Michael snarled, plunged her sword into Lucifer’s chest and _twisted_. To his credit, Lucifer’s only reaction was widened eyes and an eyebrow twitch. He recovered just as her foot connected with his chest and as he fell backwards he _saluted_.

Ramiel had given up on staying still at that point. They were shaking violently, silent tears spilling down their cheeks. They shrank as Michael moved to stand in front of them.

“Ramiel,” Raphael perked. Had Gabriel’s voice gone… _soft_? “Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

Ramiel wiped at their eyes. “I thought you loved me,” they whispered.

Gabriel seemed to crumple. He looked away. Ramiel Fell.

Gabriel took a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. When his shoulders stopped shaking he looked up. Michael moved to stand in front of Raphael.

“Raphael,” Gabriel said, and his voice was cold again. “Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

Raphael squared his shoulders. “All I ever did was ask questions,” He scanned the crowd of angels behind Michael. This was likely the last time he’d see any of them. He was just thinking, _thank God Aziraphale doesn’t have to watch this_, when he saw him. Aziraphale, just past Michael’s shoulder, blue eyes blown wide, tears streaming down his cheeks. Uriel and Sandalphon stood on either side of him.

“Don’t forget me!” he begged, his words directed at no one but Aziraphale. “Please, Aziraphale, don’t forget me!”

The sword plunged into Raphael’s chest. He was kicked backwards and he started falling. His wings were burning. His Grace was spilling out of the ragged hole in his chest. He wasn’t sure whose screams were louder – his, or Aziraphale’s.

-

“Crowley! Crowley, wake up!”

Crowley gasps awake and shoots up. He wraps his arms around himself and squeezes as hard as he can. The pressure reminds him that there is no hole in his chest. Not anymore.

“It was just a nightmare Crowley. You’re safe. You’re with me,” Aziraphale’s arms are around his shoulders and Crowley collapses into the angel. He sobs, shaking violently. He can barely breathe. He doesn’t even need to breathe. He doesn’t know why being unable to breathe makes his panic worse but it does and he hates it.

This isn’t the first time he’s had this nightmare. Not even close. But he’s never gotten used to having it. He reacts this way every single time. However, this is the first time he’s had the nightmare since the Armageddon-That-Wasn't. This is the first time that Aziraphale was here to see him. And this time, there was a voice at the end of the nightmare. He can’t remember the voice. He can’t remember what it said. But he knows it was there and he knows it was important.

He clings to Aziraphale like a lifeline, the way he wanted to when he Fell. Aziraphale cards through his hair, whispering in his ear and rocking him gently. He hears stories and songs and memories, but they’re not the ones he wants to hear. He knows he'll never hear those stories again.

All of the angels forgot the ones that Fell. It was inevitable.

The ones who Fell never forgot.

Aziraphale miracles a cup of tea into Crowley’s hands. “Drink that, my dear. It’ll help.” Numbly, Crowley takes a sip from the cup. He can barely feel it when the tea burns his tongue.

It takes a little while, but Crowley is soon calm again, if a little shaken. Crowley’s head is pillowed in Aziraphale’s lap and Aziraphale is still petting his hair. It feels nice. He can’t help but notice, however, that Aziraphale’s hand hesitates ever so often. Crowley glances up to see him worrying at his lip. It’s so damn familiar that it hurts.

“What is it, angel?”

Aziraphale pauses and stares at Crowley for a moment. “You were screaming, my dear.”

Crowley looks away, shame flushing his face. “I know. ‘M sorry,” He mumbles. “Didn’t mean to wake you up,”

“You have nothing to apologize for, dear. I was already awake.” He resumes petting Crowley's hair. “But I wanted to ask you what happened. You said… you said _‘Please, Aziraphale, don’t forget me’_ and I want to make sure I haven’t said or done anything to make you think you might lose me.”

_Oh, angel, I already have._

“It was just a nightmare, angel, don’t worry about it. You haven’t done anything.”

“Then what happened, Crowley?”

Crowley squeezes his eyes shut. He’s already cried once tonight. He’s not going to cry again. “It doesn’t matter, angel.”

“Crowley-"

“I sssaid it doesn’t matter, now will you _pleassse_ let it go?!” He snaps, sitting up and glaring at Aziraphale. Aziraphale meets his eyes without flinching. After a long moment, he nods. “Thank you,” Crowley relaxes back into his angel’s lap.

He works on teasing the voice from the end of his nightmare back into his mind. He can’t shake the feeling that it was important. But Aziraphale’s fingers in his hair lulls him to sleep and he gives in, too exhausted to resist.

He doesn’t dream. Or, at least, he doesn’t think he does. It’s just dark. Crowley whistles. The darkness whistles back. Crowley waits in the silence for a long time.

He’s suddenly surrounded by stars. Someone else is here. The presence is familiar, but until he hears the voice he doesn’t recognize it as Her.

“I'm sorry, Raphael, but I needed you here. You've done a wonderful job.”

It the same voice – the same words – from his nightmare. It's Her, he knows it is from the way it shakes him to his core. It doesn’t hurt like he thought it would, though. It feels so good that he almost wants to cry.

“Why?” He begs instead. “Why did You make them forget?” He thinks of Ramiel – now known by a different name – still crying over Gabriel. He thinks of Aziraphale on the wall in Eden looking at him without a spark of recognition. He just wants the old Aziraphale back. There’s nothing wrong with thins Aziraphale – if he doesn’t think too much about it, they’re nearly the same – but he wishes they still shared all of the same memories.

“If they never forgot, they could never remember. They could never learn regret.”

Frustration claws it way out out of Crowley’s throat in the form of a sob. “_What the fuck does that even mean?!”_

The Almighty answers him gently, reassurance flooding his entire being. “Wait and see. You'll know soon. I promise.”


End file.
